


Setting Fire to the Rain Once Again

by Eloquentish



Category: Adele (Musician), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt John Watson, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Short, Songfic, Suicide, Tumblr: letswritesherlock, a love that hurts more than comfort, imperfections of their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:28:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloquentish/pseuds/Eloquentish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will tell you all about that time I spent alone when you were right there in the other room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting Fire to the Rain Once Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is a UA. (Reverse AU, the alteration in BBC's Sherlock is that Johnlock was real but hidden from the world.) Where their relationship was something more, with all its imperfections and illusions. It's hard to say what part of it was ever real for him. Was any of it real?  
> It's broken into bits, like glimpses into the past and present, thoughts and events. I'm not much for angst so I thought I should give it a go.  
> The thing I like about this certain style is the ambiguity of it. So feel free to make any analysis or share your point of view. I'd love to know what you think. 
> 
> Here is the link to this beautiful song. - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkJz9SCz9-w

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> There are not enough words to tell you how broken I am. Not enough time, not enough air in my lungs. But I will do the best I can. For what is left of me now is just a shadow of the person I once was and I may not even stand here before you as I am now. I’m afraid it’s time to fade away soon. I promise, I will tell you. And it’s not because you happen to catch me while I’m leaving. No. It’s not about fate. Don’t try to tell me what I’m doing is wrong. I will do this and you will let me. Why? I can’t say. But I will tell you what happened. Those past three years. I will tell you all about that time I spent alone when you were right there in the other room.  
>     
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  Lately we spend less time together. It was as if I always arrived when you left. Missing each other by the second, not bothering to take a step back and look. As soon as you’re out the door, I am awake; alone in our bed. No, it wasn’t always like this. That’s what I told myself. It wasn’t always so distant. So empty.  
>     
>   
> 
>   
>  “I’m just busy with work.” You said. Yet you have all the time in the world to stay out late at night, returning home with the smell of alcohol and perfume seeping off your skin. How many was it this time? Two? Three at once? I know all about your work ethic but I will never say anything. Because then we fight. Once we do, it never ends.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  You say so little and yet so much with your sporadic slaps of insults thrown into the conversations. You don’t think I notice but I do for I still remember everything you said, word for word.  
>     
>  “You don’t know what it’s like to have my brain. You will never know so shut up. Just shut up, John.”  
>     
>  I can’t remember when it started. When your _descriptions_ turned into insults. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know the difference. Don’t you dare say that I’m taking it the wrong way. I’ve heard it enough times.  
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  There are moments in my head that I am playing over and over again right now. Somewhere amongst those glimpses of memories, there’s a constant. It’s your hand; your gentle touch on my skin. The way your delicate yet masculine fingers would curl around my own, and we would intertwine into the perfect fit. It brought me shelter from those rainy days when I woke up from nightmares. My eyes would rain and pour over your shoulders and you would bring your arms around me, closing me into a world of protection and serenity. But it was your hands that loved me. Your hands always told me the truth. And it was your hand that day that I thought of when you hit me across the eyes, leaving me black and blue. Your hands which once loved me so gently were now a weapon, shattering my nose and letting me bleed.  
>     
>  Of course, you said sorry. Of course, your hands held my face once again so apologetically, and guided me to your lips. Of course, I accepted it.  
>     
>  **Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time.**
> 
> Then it happened again. And again. And I would never do it to you because I believed so hard in your apologies. I believed that one couldn’t fight fire with fire. So I was willing to be the one to burn.  
>     
>  Oh, you _burned_ me. Somehow you had managed to keep me sane as you put me ablaze in your madness. Your addiction set us both on fire. It snapped and whizzed, licking the brain of its matter. You loved it. You loved the smell of ashes and chemicals clouding our home. It did not bother you that it slowly deteriorated everything we worked for. All those cases left incomplete like a puzzle you no longer had interest in, like it didn’t bother you that there were lives at stake. So the flames engulfed us both into a catatonic limbo of never ending hell.
> 
> Words ignited. Burns as black as coal. You let it burn. **Oh, let it burn.**  
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  In the midst of it all, I rained once again.  
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  I washed away my scars. At least I tried to. But they never disappeared completely. I’m marked all around, and it's difficult to say whether it's bad or good that there is no longer room for more. You see, I think I've become addicted to it. I think I'm used to it.
> 
> * * *
> 
>    
>  How did we manage this long? What was it that kept us attached?  
>   
> 
>   
>  I remember now. You always won. At the last break of exhaustion, deceit and manipulation, you always won with that last threat. A threat simply telling me that you would leave. You really did know how to tear me apart, shove me down, and step all over my self respect, my self control. Made me feel like a pebble inside your shoe, no longer worth the effort to walk on. No longer the one to hold you back from greater things.
> 
>  
> 
> The saddest part of it all was not that you said them. The saddest part is that I believed every single bit of it. And I still do. It hurts to, but deep down it clings on. Like a rusted hook, dull from aging but far more poisonous and all the same still painfully ripping me apart, fostering into a deeper wound.
> 
> * * *
> 
>    
>  Do we go anywhere from here? Where is here? How far is it from here to go where we need to go? I have lost my way. You left me in the middle of nowhere. I don’t care. I just know how to follow in your shadow.
> 
>  
> 
> **Sometimes I wake up by the door. That heart you caught, must be waiting for you.** I end up in places we used to be. Of all the places I have travelled back to, I never returned to our flat. It harbours too many memories. Too many...  
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> It's getting difficult to tell when I'm awake or dreaming.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  You ask me if I still love you. What kind of a question is that?  
>     
>   
> 
>   
>  Of course I do.  
>   
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
>     
>  Just not like before.  
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>     
>  It’s raining. The sky is above me, the ground is below and between is a ten story building that I stand at the edge of. You aren’t really here. You’re just a figment of my imagination. Shut up. Please don’t talk. I can’t focus.  
>   
> 
>   
>  I need to focus. I need to focus on clearing my head.  
>  You are not here. You left three years ago. Right at the spot I’m standing on right now. This exact spot was where you said your goodbye. Yes, _your_ goodbye. I wasn’t done meeting you. It was _your_ one-sided farewell. I still had a whole life time to spend meeting you, all the parts of you that were hidden away. No way in hell was I done even saying hello and you had the audacity to push me away and throw us into the flames. You traumatised me in your end.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Who will love me now?  
>   
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  Of course, I still love you.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
>  I just don’t love you the same.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>     
>  It’s raining. This time; my eyes. They're shut. I’m not going to see you now. You had your chance to save me the past three years but today, right now, I’m closing them. I’m shutting you out. I have to. I have to jump. I’m going to.  
>     
>   
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
> 
>   
>     
>     
>     
>     
>  _Sherlock._


End file.
